


Vellum of the Seasons

by StarkRogers



Series: Witcher Fic [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, I just really love the outdoors guys I'm sorry all of my Witcher fics are about nature and hiking, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Nature, No Smut, Northern Lights, nature porn, the beauty of nature, they're together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:49:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27652979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarkRogers/pseuds/StarkRogers
Summary: Jaskier joins Geralt on the journey up to Kaer Morhen, and spends the hike enraptured by the beauty of nature. There's no smut in this one, unless you consider detailed descriptions of the outdoors to be nature porn or something.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher Fic [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2054499
Comments: 13
Kudos: 37





	Vellum of the Seasons

The autumn world was waiting for the first snow, dead and empty with nothing to fill the spaces between the bare branches but chilly air and wind. 

But there was beauty in it, that maybe only few could see. The thin vellum between seasons was always its own form of transient beauty, but this fall was even more breathtaking than most. Jaskier was following Geralt north this year, and the bard was caught staring at the jaw-dropping beauty of the landscape around him on an hourly basis. Perhaps it was not a vista everyone could appreciate; the fiery heat of autumn’s glory was gone from the branches, and everything was gray, peppered as they rose in elevation with the steely-green of pines. Mist obscured the distance many mornings, burning off only as the sun reached its zenith low in the sky. 

The days were growing noticeably shorter, plunging them into darkness hours before they tired, but Geralt refused to travel in the dark with Jaskier by his side. The Witcher would’ve pressed on were he alone, but the path was just treacherous enough that the risk of Jaskier plummeting down a scree slope in the darkness was too high. But even the long, cold nights held their own beauty. Far, far away from cities and towns, above the warm damp air of the coast, the night sky was overwhelming. Jaskier swore he could see colors in the stars, some were blue and others gold, still others flaming red and orange. The sky itself was a swirling canvas of deep indigos and purple, with a great arch of stars and swirling blue that swept across the entire sky. 

And then one night, something so awe-inspiring happened Jaskier completely forgot to breathe for several minutes. They’d fallen asleep hours ago, when a noise in the forest woke Jaskier in the middle of the night. He rolled over after a moment; Geralt wasn’t awake so whatever it was, there was no threat. He was about to go back to sleep when he opened his eyes, and saw the sky on _fire_. 

An entire quarter of the sky was filled with towering pillars of shimmering green light. As Jaskier stared, open-mouthed, he could see it slowly dancing, the bands of light fading in and out as they marched across the sky. 

“Geralt,” he whispered, reaching out an arm into the crisp night air. “Geralt!” He grasped the Witcher’s shoulder and shook him hard until he woke with a grunt and rolled over. Geralt looked at Jaskier, and saw green dancing in his eyes. A small smile tugged at his lips, and he rolled onto his back, looking up at the shimmering lights as they slowly swirled. 

“What is it?” Jaskier asked, his voice soft and reverent. He felt like he was in the presence of the Gods or perhaps something even more, something greater than the Gods and Destiny. This was - this was something bigger and more wonderful than anything a mortal could grasp. He felt like the universe itself was speaking to him. He felt infinitely small, yet somehow as if he was part of something infinitely large.

“It’s the Northern Dawn,” Geralt replied quietly. “Happens every winter. Not every night, but sometimes when it’s clear…”

They stayed awake for a long time, staring at the emerald fire dancing its way across the sky, until they both fell back asleep. Jaskier was quiet the next morning, and didn’t finally find his voice until midway through the day, when the enormity of the experience had worked its way through him. He was chattering away by noon, humming and idly plucking his fingers in the air (his lute was packed away on Roach for safe keeping on the journey up the mountain). 

Jaskier wasn’t even sure how much of this journey he would be able to share in song; he would write about it without question, but not every song was meant to be shared with the masses. How could he possibly convey the mind blowing beauty of the night sky he’d just experienced? How could he explain the joy of drinking from an ice-cold mountain spring, or the way one grew used to how mornings started out cold and warmed up as the body moved and packed up camp before hitting the trail again? Would anyone care about the quiet beauty of a frozen pond? These things were certainly not as exciting as monster hunts and tales of glory and heroism, but Jaskier couldn’t help but feel they were just as important. What was a Witcher without these moments? Geralt was as much this mountain trail as he was monster blood and death. His hair as gray as the fog they traveled through in the morning, his armor as black as the ink of the night sky, his sword as silver as the moon-

“You’re writing about me again,” Geralt rumbled, a few steps ahead of Jaskier on the trail.

“What? Of course I’m not, why would you say that?” Jaskier protested, being contrary simply because Geralt was right.

“Because you’ve gone quiet. You always go quiet when you’re thinking about me.”

Jaskier frowned.

“Do I really?”

“Mm hmm,” Geralt replied. “That’s how I figured you out in the first place.”

“Don’t give yourself all the credit for that,” Jaskier said with a huff. “I would like to think I had a bit of a say in the matter, I did write _several_ suggestive songs about you.”

“Yet your silence spoke volumes more than your lyrics,” Geralt mused, glancing back with a twinkle in his eyes he knew would set Jaskier off. 

“I won’t kiss you again till we reach Kaer Morhen if you keep that up,” Jaskier grumbled, and Geralt laughed, turning back to keep his eyes on the path.

Jaskier continued to write furiously in his journals every night, his mind full of all the visual wonders of the day before. They were a few nights away from the keep when it snowed for the first time, and Jaskier gasped so loudly that Geralt whipped around, searching for the danger.

“Snow!” Jaskier said with delight, and Geralt raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve seen snow before,” he noted, turning to walk again, keeping them moving.

“Yes, but never snow this _big_.” The snowflakes falling from the gray sky were huge, big enough Jaskier could see every detail of their six-sided symmetry, the crystalline beauty mesmerizing in its intricacy. “Snow down south is wet and heavy, it just soaks through everything and makes it all miserable,” Jaskier said, watching with delight as more flakes landed on Roach’s flanks and slowly melted. The snow swirled up into a small flurry by the time they stopped for the night, and in the morning every surface was covered in a light, fluffy dusting of snow. It was freezing, but Jaskier was too delighted by the new beauty of the world to care. Snow this far north stuck to the trees in ways it never did down south. The snow itself glittered in ways he’d never seen in his life; as the sun poked through the clouds for the first time in days he was nearly blinded by the beauty around him.

They made it to the keep a few days later, and it was lucky they did; the next night an even fiercer snow storm blew through the mountain, covering the trail in several feet of snow and ice. It didn’t matter though; they were safe and warm inside the walls, and Jaskier had all winter to develop his words into songs. Maybe, just maybe, with enough time, he could make the world understand. 


End file.
